


let's just be who we really are

by igotopigfarts



Series: WayHaught One-Shots [3]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Agony, Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Despair, Destruction, F/F, I'm Sorry, Pain, Tears, Wayhaught - Freeform, nicole haught - Freeform, sisters trying to help with all of the above, waverly earp - Freeform, wynonna earp - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igotopigfarts/pseuds/igotopigfarts
Summary: Being an Earp comes with a lot of baggage.





	let's just be who we really are

**Author's Note:**

> have some pain

“Earp.”  The greeting was short and gruff—Nedley style.  

“Yup?”

“Just got a call from the bar ‘bout your sister. Broke another couple glasses, threatened to shoot someone if they didn’t leave her be.  They didn’t want to do anything because of what happened last time and with… with what happened.  Thought I’d call you first. Do you want to handle it?”

“Yeah, I got this.  Thanks for the heads up, Nedley.”

“Yeah, sure.  Just make sure she stays out of trouble, okay?  Townsfolk aren’t having it.”

“I’ll handle it.”

* * * * * *

_ Let’s just be who we really are. _  She said that at some point, but she couldn’t exactly recall why.  The words seemed empty and stupid now. How can you be who you really are if you don’t even know who that is?

And how could she know when everything good had been ripped away from her?  How could she be who she was without the people in her life who made her that way?  Everyone had been taken or left her and here she was, sitting alone at the bar, the eyes of the patrons boring into her back.  

Pity.  They were looking at her with pity and she  _ hated _ it.  She tapped her shot glass on the counter twice, signaling to the bartender to fill it up again.  When the bartender came over to pour in more whiskey, she gave her the same look that everyone else in the bar was giving her as well.  Goddamn pity.

Pity and disgust at the same time really.  She could hear them all talking about her. She wasn’t stupid.  

_ Look at the Earp sister, at it again.  Drunk and angry. Best stay away from her fist.  _

_ Poor girl.  Everything that happened to her is just so sad.  She blames herself for it all. _

_ Well, it was her fault wasn’t it?  She’s the reason it happened. She did it.   _

_ Oh, check it out.  It’s the crazy Earp sister.  Better watch out— the whole family is straight out of the loony bin.   _

It made her want to scream and cry and smash the glass against the wall and watch it shatter just like everything in her life lately—just like her heart.  But instead, she kept the storm inside, as much as she was able. Her chest felt as though it might explode and her heart was in her throat and the pressure behind her eyes was almost unbearable—but she kept the storm inside.

Instead, with her newly refilled shot glass, she tilted her head back, allowing the whiskey to slide down her throat, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it warmed her insides.  

She was an Earp.  She was used to this by now—no need to cough or splutter at the harsh liquid.  She had done this too many times before for that, especially in the past few weeks.  Now she relished the burn in her throat as it numbed her heart and clouded the thoughts pounding inside her mind.  

“Leave the bottle,” she told the bartender.  Again, that goddamn pity. It was disgusting.  But the decanter was left in front of her, and maybe she wouldn’t have to see the look anymore on the bartender’s face—at least, she wouldn’t have to see it every time she needed a refill.  Which, speaking of, was at that moment. And so she poured herself another shot. Maybe, if she just distracted herself with drinking, she wouldn’t have to think anymore. Maybe, if she kept drinking, it would eventually get to the point where she  _ couldn’t _ think anymore.  And not being able to think would be so much easier than the thoughts slamming against the inside of her brain and the pain she was feeling now.  

Being an Earp came with a lot of baggage, and oftentimes that baggage got taken out on other people.  Other people that didn’t deserve what happened to them, but suffered anyways just because they came into contact with her and her cursed family and this wretched goddamn town.  Wonderful, kind hearted, brave, incredible people who didn’t deserve this.

She didn’t realize she was crying until she looked down at the counter and watched the tears dropping onto the wood, collecting and pooling.  

Here she was, sitting in the middle of the bar, taking shot after shot, crying.  No wonder everyone was looking at her with pity. She was pitiful. A scream began to bubble in her chest and she was about to let it out when she felt a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing.  

“Hey, let me take you home now.”  The voice was gentle, calm. Reassuring.  

That just made it worse.  

She shrugged the hand off her shoulder, hunching over the counter, her breath becoming shaky.  

“No.”  The word was firm—no room for argument.  But her sister was stubborn. 

“Let’s head out now.  You know this isn’t what—”

“You better not finish that sentence,” she warned, turning on her sister with pained anger clouding her eyes.  “You can’t—it’s too soon.” No one should be talking about what happened. It was too soon. It was too much. It would be disrespectful.  

“You don’t get a monopoly on the pain we all feel,” her sister reminded her.  The words were gentle, but said with a force behind them. The words echoed in the back of her mind, familiar and yet seemingly so distant.  

“This is different,” she argued, but the words felt empty and hollow.  It wasn’t different. It was the same. It was always the same. Every time this happened, everytime someone suffered because of her, because of her family, it was the same.  There was always so much pain—and there never seemed to be anything she could do to stop it. 

“Wave—”

“No, Wynonna.  You don’t  _ get _ it.  You never will.  You don’t  _ care. _  It’s like this is all some big fucking game to you!” Waverly shouted, spinning around on the bar stool to face her older sister.  Her jaw clenched as the tears welled in her eyes, hot and burning and painful. Just like she deserved. Her fists balled up by her sides, nails digging into her skin.  The pain in her palms gave her a sense of relief, if only fleetingly.

“You know that’s not true, baby girl,” Wynonna responded gently, and there it was again.  The  _ pity. _  Even her sister was looking at her as though she was something to pity, to feel bad for, and goddamnit, that was killing her. 

“You don’t fucking  _ get it!” _  Waverly shouted, finally throwing the shot glass across the room like she had wanted, reveling in the sound of the glass shattering against the wall, the slight burn in her arm from the exertion of the forward thrust.  Everyone was staring at her now, but she didn’t care. The tears streamed down her face and all she could do was stand there, pissed beyond belief with Wynonna, with all the patrons of the bar, with her life, with—

“You don’t understand,” the younger Earp whispered softly, her voice broken.  

“I do get it, baby girl.  More than you know.” Wynonna offered.  

“That was different.  You weren’t—he wasn’t—you can’t  _ say _ that was the same.  Because it wasn’t. I know you loved Dolls in your own way, but—but it was supposed to be us.  It was always supposed to be us and now—” Waverly felt herself break, collapsing and crumbling in on herself.  

“I know, baby girl.  It was. And what happened was completely unfair, but you have to understand it wasn’t your fault.  It was never your fault.” Wynonna lifted Waverly’s arm over her shoulder, leading her out of the bar and towards her Jeep.  She helped to lift her inside the car on the passenger’s side, doing her best to avoid the wrappers and trash littering the area.  Waverly allowed this to be done as her vision clouded and her mind grew foggy. There was so much  _ pain _ and she wasn’t quite sure how best to handle it.  

“I don’t remember—” Waverly began, but the words caught in her throat and she seemed to choke on them, unable to express properly the pain she was feeling over the words she knew she said but couldn’t for the life of her remember uttering.  

“She knew, baby girl.  She knew,” Wynonna reassured her, driving Waverly away from the bar.  

“Can we—can we go there?” Waverly asked.  Wynonna looked at her with shock for a moment before collecting herself and clearing her throat.  

“Yeah, I mean…. Have you been yet?”  

“Just the first time.  I just… I want be able to say I’m sorry.”

“Of course, Waverly.  But you know there’s nothing to apologize for.”  In that moment, Waverly finally recognized the look Wynonna gave her for what it was: empathy.  Not pity. She understood Waverly’s pain and was trying her best to let her sister know that. So Waverly just nodded absently, forehead pressed against the window sill of the car, chest still constricting with the pain of everything.  

When they finally arrived and left the Jeep, the night air was cool, the grass slightly wet still from an earlier rain shower.  The path to their destination seemed longer than it actually was, and Waverly wondered what it would be like to actually feel again.  Her legs were heavy and leaden, the younger sister barely able to pick up her feet as she shuffled down the path. Her heart hurt, but in an empty, aching way, as though a void had been left where everything should have been.  

Finally, Waverly saw it.  Wynonna stayed back, giving her sister some space as everything around Waverly seemed to disappear.  She collapsed in front of it, knees falling down on the muddy pile of dirt, head buried in her hands as the pain of what never would be seemed to fill up and overflow inside her.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, running her hands over the smooth stone.  Her voice cracked—there was so much more to say, and yet she couldn’t seem to formulate the right words.  She couldn’t seem to speak at all. 

_ I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.  You always wanted to protect me and I couldn’t do the same.  I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this from happening and now you’ve lost everything because of me.  I’m sorry that meeting me ruined everything for you and part of me wishes we never did meet. Because then you would still be here and I wouldn’t know you, but at least you’d be here.  But honestly, I can’t imagine my life without loving you. And I do love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. And I wish you were here so I could say that now, so I can tell you one more time how much you mean to me, how much I love you.  I know I’ve told you before, but goddamn it I can’t remember it and I wish I just knew the last time I said I love you because maybe that would somehow make everything better and you would be here and you could hold me again and I would make sure that none of this ever happened again.  But you’re gone. And I wish to God you weren’t.  _

Waverly reached out towards the stone, desperate to hold on to something.  But as she ran her hands over the etched letters, it felt wrong, empty. She wasn’t here—this was just a stone, placed over a casket in the ground.  This wasn’t  _ her _ .  Waverly had her chance, and now it was gone.  Forever. 

Nicole was gone.  Forever. 

Tears hot in her eyes, Waverly stood up, refusing to look back at the cool and lifeless stone that was supposed to be a stand-in for the warm, loving person she had once known.  Instead, she walked towards Wynonna, standing under a tree about fifty yards down the path. Wynonna met her halfway, throwing an arm around Waverly and pulling her close to her as they slowly make their way back down to the Jeep.  Wynonna pressed her lips lightly against the top of Waverly’s head as they trudged down the path, leaving the cold stone behind them. 

Waverly pressed herself against her sister, calmed by her warmth, her presence, her  _ existence. _

“She loved you more than anything baby girl, and she knew you loved her too,” Wynonna whispered against the top of Waverly’s head.  

“I know,” Waverly replied.  Because she did know. She knew Nicole loved her and, as much as she regretted not saying it more, she knew Nicole understood how much Waverly loved her.  She had to have known. 

It was then Waverly realized that maybe not everything good had been taken away from her.  Wynonna was still there, with her, comforting her. Wynonna was something good and she always had been.  

And so they headed towards the Jeep, away from the gravestone… away from Nicole.  

**Author's Note:**

> My roommate: You know who's not getting fucked? Waverly. You know why? Nicole be dead. 
> 
> Yell at me on tumblr [@igotopigfarts](https://igotopigfarts.tumblr.com/) and leave comments!!!!!!!
> 
> And also this was in the works before odaatlover's most recent chapter so


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